


Blizzard

by tiffywiffyfluffykitty



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Character Death, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Heartbreak, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mortality, Out of Character, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffywiffyfluffykitty/pseuds/tiffywiffyfluffykitty
Summary: "She came into his life like a blizzard; fierce, unrelenting, and unyielding. And for the first time in his life, he let himself get swept away by the untamed storm."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't going to be a very dramatic story and will span maybe 7 to 8 chapters. I'm mostly writing this as a way to play with gender and how it might work with a certain personality. You probably won't get it, but that's alright because I don't think I'm getting it either.  
> This is also an attempt at a different writing style and I'm just playing with a minimalistic approach. It probably won't work out so well but it's fun to work with!  
> Please give me feedback if you can! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

He first saw her in the deep winter wilderness when he was but a very young boy. However, a passing wind blew the snow into his eyes and when he finally blinked away the white flakes that clung to his lashes, she was gone.

But he was soon distracted; Anderson was begging him to build snow forts and snowmen and tall pillars of ice for them to play with and he gladly obliged, forgetting all about the strange girl in the woods.

As for the girl herself, she did not take any notice of the boy with the ice blue eyes and the pale hair. She was, instead, watching for crimson sleighs and little wrapped gifts, for it was almost Christmas and that meant trying, and failing, to break into the ice-covered stronghold in the frigid north and disrupting the work that happened there every year.

She twirled her staff, laughing, and leapt into the air, the wind swirling around her slim legs and tangling in her long hair, and let it carry her away.

* * *

Years pass. The pale boy had enclosed himself in his room, gloved hands clenched and pressed to his belly as he sat hunched in a corner with his head bowed. Fragmented ice lay littered around him on the floor, gleaming in the light.

“Elson,” his mother pleaded. She reached out, but he flinched away.

“Mother, please don’t touch me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

His father stood above him, silent and watchful. A moment later, he turns and leaves. With one more distressed look at her son, the boy’s mother leaves as well.

Left alone, the boy buries his face in his arms and weeps.

* * *

 

She lets out a breathless laugh, sapphire eyes shining with starlight as she twirls in the snow. Bare feet leave light indentions in the white powder and the leather strips wrapped around her calves flutter in the wind from her wild movements.

Frost flutters from her fingertips, sliding over glass and wood and stone. The adults grumble in the cold, but the children laugh, enchanted by the glittering wonderland around them.

When she is done she perches in the treetops, admiring her handiwork before she flips into the air and allows the wind to catch her and bear her somewhere else.

* * *

 

And so the years pass.


	2. Chapter 2

Peaceful. Prosperous. Wealthy.

That was Arendelle now, under King Elson’s rule. Bright smiles on every face, laughter in every household. Open gates. A courtyard covered in ice every weekend with the children skidding all over it, led by Anderson and Olaf.

Happiness.

And yet…

Boredom. Loneliness. Wistfulness.

Elson sees Anderson kiss Kristina under the light of the moon. Their eyes glow with the strength of their love for one another. Their fingers twined together; Anderson’s thumb brushing gently over her knuckles while his other hand caresses her face, tracing the shape of her lips.

He is happy for them. Overjoyed, even. All he wanted was for his younger brother to be safe and content.

But he wished he also had someone to hold in his arms.

* * *

 

The girl laughs derisively on Valentine’s Day.

What a foolish holiday.

She looks with distaste at packaged chocolate and bouquets of roses. She turns her nose at kissing couples and declarations of everlasting love.

But as she tumbles away soon after, the wind taking her towards the horizon, a frown slips over her fine features and her heart aches.

It was a terrible thing, to be this alone.

* * *

 

Twenty steps. Turn. Twenty steps. Turn. One… two… three…

Elson pauses, sees his reflection in the mirror in his study. Pale hair disheveled, blue eyes exhausted. He turns away and resumes pacing.

Being king was troublesome. Taxes, trade, economics, politics, ambassadors, royalty, banquets, dinners, flatter, compliment, subtle, blunt, meetings, discussions. A whirlwind of papers and wax seals and signatures and eloquent words and headaches and smiles that make him want to escape towards his icy palace high above the world.

But he would run away no longer. He had a duty, an obligation, to the kingdom.

Anderson, Kristina, Gerda, Kai, Olaf, Sven, thousands of faces all looking towards _him_ for guidance.

He wants to scream. He wants to let go.

Slowly, ice creeps over polished mahogany furniture.

* * *

 

She is wild, feral. She is the wind, the cold, the snow. She is winter.

She has no responsibilities. No commitments save for dutifully helping to bring the cold season with Mother Nature to the humans.

She revels in her freedom.

She skips through the air and cold streams from her crooked staff. Curls and tendrils of frost blooming over every surface. An iced-over pond. Icicles dangling from trees and the roofs of the little village houses.

She lets herself be thrown this way and that, dancing through nature. She is one with the earth and the sky, and the world sighs and lets the little girl-spirit have her way for none but the Sun and the Moon and the Stars above can hold sway over her.

She teeters on the edge of a cliff. A kingdom sprawls before her eyes. Untainted. Untouched by her hand.

So far.

* * *

 

Winter is early this year.

The crops fail and Elson sends help to his people by way of food and supplies so that they may survive the cold days ahead.

The storm ends soon, however, and a world of white greets their eyes. Anderson and Kristina and Olaf and Sven immediately set out to play. Elson stares wistfully after them.

If only he could be as carefree again.

* * *

 

There is a palace.

She perches on top of a flagpole, balancing on the very tip like a bird. Her head tilts and she watches the figures below.

A tall auburn-haired young man. A burly blonde. A shaggy reindeer. Six or so children, all small with faces flushed from the cold.

A walking, talking snowman.

Such magic! She examines him closely. Who had made such a creature? She desired to have a closer look and drops down to examine him.

And he sees her.

“Oh, she’s pretty, Anderson!” he gasps.

“Who?”

“The girl over there.” A thin branch of an arm points, but she is invisible to all but the strange snow being.

“Olaf, there’s no one there.” Anderson gives him a strange look and leaves.

“Who made you?” she asked, kneeling in front of the creature.

“Elson,” he said happily. “He’s the king.”

“Is he a spirit, like I am?”

“No, no! He has ice powers! And he made me!” He giggles.

She cocks her head to one side. King Elson.

Interesting.

* * *

 

A knock on the door disturbs him. He calls and the door opens, revealing his creation.

“There he is!”

“Here I am.” Elson is bemused, but decides to play along.

A gust of wind blows and he feels a _calculating stare_ affixed upon him. He shudders, but there is no one but him and the snowman.

“Olaf?”

“He made me years ago,” the snowman was saying. “He makes a lot of things, too. Like Marshmallow. That’s my brother.”

“Olaf, who are you talking to?”

“The girl.” He points to empty air in front of the desk.

Elson wonders if he should remake Olaf. “There is no one there.”

The snowman is confused. “But she’s right in front of you.”

And so she is.

Elson yelps and scrambles backward, away from the girl who had suddenly materialized on top of his desk.

She leans forward, inspects him as if he was a rare specimen. He is breathing fast, frightened out of his wits. A slow grin spreads over her face.

“King Elson, is it?”

“Who in the name of Heaven are _you_?”

Her eyes, like purest sapphires, gleamed.

“Jacqueline Frost, at your service… _Your Majesty_.”


	3. Chapter 3

She is a strange, terrifying guest. She was not human; this much was obvious. She was too… perfect.

Long silver hair falling to her hips. A graceful neck. Pouty lips. Slender wrists dangling over the twisted staff slung around her shoulders. Big, bright eyes. A curvy torso sheathed in a blue blouse frosted at the neck and cuffs. And her legs—

Elson swallowed and averted his eyes. No female should have her legs this exposed.

Jacqueline smirks, seeing him flush. “Like what you see?”

She displays a smooth, pale limb and despite himself, he peeks.

Beautifully shaped calves loosely wrapped with strips of worn leather. Full thighs. Bare feet with little toes. A rounded bottom clad in indecently short brown pants that were slung low on her hips.

She lets out a pealing laugh and he realizes he’s been caught. He flushes once more, but gathers himself.

“Who are you? Are you an intruder? What do you want?”

Jacqueline regards him with a lazy expression. “I want to know how you made him.” She points at Olaf. “I want to know how a mortal is able to do this.”

Elson hesitates. Her eyes narrow.

“Tell me, human.”

“I have powers.” A snowflake hovers above his hand.

“Where do they come from?”

“I don’t know. I was born with them.”

She gracefully dismounts the table. Glances outside, at the noonday sun. “Perhaps it was the Man in the Moon.” Cold eyes look at him, raking up and down over his body. “But why?”

A rhetorical question. Elson does not answer.

“Is there anyone I can talk to? Your mother?”

“My mother is dead.”

“I’m sorry.” But the words were empty. What did death mean to an immortal?

Elson clenches his fists. But he does not give a retort. A king has too much dignity to do so.

“Answer me.” She snaps her fingers at him with impatience. “Who can I speak to?”

“There are rock trolls in the mountains. You should go to them. They have helped me before.” He speaks reluctantly. Kristina would not forgive him if she hurt them.

Jacqueline stands and Elson forces his eyes away from her thin but shapely body. “Then I will see you later, _Majesty.”_

She gives an ironic bow, eyes never leaving his. Elson swallows with difficulty.

A gust of wind breezes through the room. The window opens.

“Ta.”

And she is gone.

* * *

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Anderson is concerned.

Elson stammers out his strange encounter with the immortal being. His face flushes and he hates himself for it.

“You like her.” Olaf giggles.

“She’s too… strange.”

“She’s immortal. They are creatures that do not follow the rules of time.” Kristina is worried. Her arms cross over her chest. “Rules that apply to us. Death. Aging. With time comes different priorities. They do not have the same concerns.”

“How do you know this?”

“The rock trolls are mortal, but they do not age like we do. I have known them long enough to learn how they think.”

Elson is barely listening. He thinks of the girl, with her breathtaking eyes and long legs.

In the few minutes he spoke with her, time had sped until everything was a rush. A blur. Too fast for him to fully comprehend what he saw, what he was speaking to. And he had never been more aware of anyone but her.

He wonders when she will return.

* * *

 

The human king is strange. Stranger than most humans.

He reacted like humans do, with fear and suspicion. But what was different about him, save for his powers?

Jacqueline did not know.

She finds the trolls easily, but they had no answers for her.

“It must be the Man in the Moon,” the eldest tells her.

And so it must be. For he has unimaginable power. He had brought her back from the dead, hadn’t he?

A quick soar around the area leads to the discovery of a palace of ice. Elson, no doubt.

It is uninhabited, save for a hulking beast of a snowman and hundreds of little ones, all frolicking throughout the palace.

“Did Elson create this?” she asks the beast. This must be Marshmallow.

He grunts, nods. She leaves soon after, but perches on top of the palace to ponder.

Elson can create life. She could, as well, but not like he could. She wonders if it was a human trait. They did experience life differently. Time did that.

For a mortal, he was powerful.

Jacqueline remembers his expression when he first beheld her. Confusion, then fright and surprise and wariness. Like a cornered animal. Elson knew she was unlike anything else in the mortal world.

Well, neither was he.

His eyes were very blue. Ice. Very much like her own.

One could get lost in those eyes.

And for a brief moment, she had. A second. A heartbeat. But it seemed to her, for the very first time, like it had lasted for centuries.

A strange feeling, one she did not know if she liked. But now was not the time to think about it.

The Moon was rising.

* * *

 

5 minutes after 2 in the morning.

He paces in front of his desk. His mind was restless. There were many things he must think of, but all that came to him was one thought.

Will I see her again?

Elson was aggravated for thinking about her. It did not do well to meddle with immortals. They were not Gods, but they were powerful. If he was not careful, he could bring disaster upon his kingdom.

But he remembers her proud figure and his heart quickens. Sweat slickens his palms and beads his forehead.

Fear? Was this fear he was feeling?

Then why the desire to see her? Why the odd ache as he remembers her milk-white legs? Her ocean eyes? Her starlight hair?

Slim fingers wrapped around a thick wooden staff.

He flushes and a shudder goes down his spine. No. None of these thoughts.

He throws himself into his chair and tries to be calm.

She will come back when she wishes. That was the way of immortals. Twenty days will seem like minutes to them. Twenty minutes could feel like years to mortals.

He looks at the clock.

7 minutes after 2 in the morning.

He groans.

* * *

 

The Moon did not answer.

Very well, then. She will get no answers from him.

The wind rushes as Jacqueline speeds away from this kingdom. There was one other she could ask, but who she seeks does not always take kindly to her presence.

Still, if there was anyone in this mortal world who would know about Elson, it would be Nicola St. North.

Now, to get past the yeti first…


	4. Chapter 4

Three days have passed. She did not return.

Elson forces himself to forget about her. Why does she continue to come to the forefront of his mind?

Ridiculous.

Neat lines of black writing stare. He stares back. Pushes the papers away.

“Is everything alright?” Anderson asks.

“Yes. Fine.”

“You seem unwell.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the girl?” He smirks.

Elson glares. “No.”

“Liar.” But he lets it go a few seconds later. Elson was not in the mood. “You’ve been on edge the past three days. Do you want to rest instead?”

“I need to finish. You go ahead. There’s no need for you to help me.”

“Kai tells me you’ve barely finished your work.”

“I’ll have it done by the end of the week.”

Anderson seems disbelieving, but turns to leave. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

Elson is left alone. He looks at the clock.

3 days, 10 hours, 34 minutes.

He lets out a sigh.

* * *

 

Jacqueline was finally granted an audience with Nicola after two days.

“You have never come to me seeking aid before. This is rather unusual.”

“Yes, it is. Tell me, Nicola, what do you know about morals with extraordinary powers?”

“Powers? Such as what?”

“Ice. Like me.”

“Intriguing. Where?”

“Arendelle, a kingdom in Scandinavia.”

“The name seems familiar to me. Who?”

“Elson, the king.”

“I see.”

But Nicola has no answers to her questions.

“I remember a boy who would not accept my gifts while his brother thrives on them. But I cannot recall anything about any powers. I am sorry, but I cannot help you.”

Jacqueline leaves soon after. She will investigate further with the king himself.

* * *

 

She arrives at night four days after she left the king gaping after her in his study.

There is only a sliver of the moon peeking through the clouds. The Man was probably watching her fruitless attempts at learning about the human king.

The village and the castle are dark. The people must be asleep. The king must be asleep.

Should she wait?

Ah, what was she thinking?

She was Jacqueline Frost. Mortals should be honored to receive an audience from her.

A curtain twitches aside in a high window. A lumpy face peers out.

Olaf.

She appears in front of him. His eyes widen and the window is pushed open.

“You’re back!”

“I want to speak with Elson. Where is he?”

“He’s in his room. I’ll take you there.”

Jacqueline lightly jumps into the room. Snow crunches underfoot. The room was filled with nothing but.

“This is my room. I sleep over there under the window.”

He leads her through the halls. Their steps make no sound.

“This door!”

White with blue geometric markings. She memorizes it.

“Thank you, Olaf.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Perhaps… Good night.”

“Good night!”

She opens the door and it slides open with nary a creak or a groan. She slips in and disappears.

The room is dark. Weak moonlight illuminates part of the floor.

Elson is deeply asleep. Jacqueline approaches, hovers over him. He does not stir.

“Awaken.”

He does not rouse.

She will not be deterred.

A snowflake blows from her fingertips, lands between his eyes. They open.

“Good morning.”

* * *

 

Jacqueline is here. Sprawled carelessly on top of the duvet. Legs bent with her staff held in the crook of her arm.

She is on his bed.

His _bed_.

“What are you doing here?” He hurriedly runs fingers through his hair in a poor attempt at combing.

“I could find nothing about your powers from an old Guardian. While the Man in the Moon refuses to say anything. Truly, you are an enigma.”

Elson watches the moonlight on her hair, illuminating her eyes, throwing shadows over her body.

“I didn’t think you would be so interested.”

“I have never met a mortal with powers.” Her lips curl into a smirk. “I am… curious.”

“You were gone for four days.”

Jacqueline’s head tilts. Her eyes are amused. “You counted?”

He flushes. “I’ve never met an immortal. Then you leave without warning. I… wanted to know where you’ve gone.”

“Why do you care? What an immortal does is their business to worry about. A mortal shouldn’t concern themselves with our doings.”

He could not meet her eyes. He did not know what to say. He could feel her examining him.

“You are interested in me.”

Elson could feel his heart quickening. “No.”

“Liar.” Her voice was sly, impish, mocking. “I see how you look at me.”

“I… W-Well… I… I…Y-You are beautiful.”

“Am I?”

She is in front of him. Her lips are inches from his. Her scent nearly overwhelms him. His throat tightens.

“You desire me.”

“I… I do not.”

Jacqueline laughs. Low and throaty. “Do not lie to me, King of Arendelle.”

Elson should not look, but he does.

Her skin is milk white. Her eyes are, once again, like sapphires. Hair like molten silver. Soft, curving breasts push against her blouse. Her neck arches, displaying her throat. Her legs… her legs are thin and smooth and glow like polished ivory under the moon’s shine.

His palms moisten with sweat. He wipes them nervously on his sheets.

She smirks. His heartbeat quickens.

“Tell me you want me.”

His eyes widen and his mouth is dry.

Jacqueline chuckles. Ice cold fingers wrap around his chin.

Then soft, soft lips pressed against his own.

Elson gasps. She draws back.

“Until tomorrow, King Elson.”

And once again, she was gone faster than the wind. Thick curtains flutter in the breeze from the open window.


	5. Chapter 5

She visits him every night for seven days.

No one but Olaf and Elson sees her. Olaf, when once she encountered him as she departed. Elson, because he was the one she stays to see.

There were no more kisses. No more touches.

They sit, hidden in the shadows of Elson’s bed, and talk.

Stories of foreign lands, of mischievous younger brothers, of rising taxes and trade disputes, of blizzards and snowstorms, of snowmen and hot chocolate drinks, of Childhood Guardians, of dreamsands and dolphins, of greedy dukes who dance like a chicken with the face of a monkey.

Later, Elson would sleep and she leaves only to return the next night.

And he would be sitting in bed, waiting for her to appear.

He looked forward to their nights. It was good to relax, to talk to someone other than his family.

And she was wonderful company.

Fun, witty, charming, and unusually intelligent. They were many qualities he looked for in a woman.

He remembers the night she came back. Eyes that seem to glow in the dark. Lithe body so close to his. The scent of the winter wind and of crisp snow. Her lips on his.

He remembers further back. Thoughts of slim fingers, his name spoken in her throaty voice.

It was wrong. Wrong to think about an immortal in such a way, even if she was extraordinarily beautiful.

But he could not help himself. Though he was ashamed to admit it, he was but a mortal man.

And though he fought himself, he does greatly desire Jacqueline.

But whether she desired him as well, he did not know.

That day, Elson decided to find out for himself.

* * *

 

When Jacqueline was not with Elson in his quarters, she was roaming the world, bringing snow and pulling harmless little pranks.

Now, she perches in the boughs of an evergreen tree, watching a young couple twirl to the invisible music of their love. Their faces are blissful, their cheeks warm with blushes, and their eyes were shining.

Jacqueline watches with curiosity. It has been years since she had paid any attention to romance, finding it a waste of time, as her own loneliness pangs in her heart.

The couple below her kiss, their arms holding each other closer in their passion. Jacqueline’s mind flashes back to the impromptu kiss she had given Elson.

It had been a spur of the moment decision. He had looked so afraid, so vulnerable, so mortified. All big eyes and tousled hair and dark blush. And he had looked so very, very handsome.

So she kissed him.

And it was wonderfully, beautifully strange. She doesn’t know what to make of it. But she had done it and it was magnificent.

And something had bloomed between them. Something _warm._

The couple release each other and now their gazes are hungry, burning with need and promise.

This, Jacqueline knows about. She hasn’t been blind to it, over the years. Too often she had witnessed trysts that she would rather had not seen.

And now other thoughts wander unbidden into her mind.

* * *

 

As a spirit, she could travel thousands of miles in a heartbeat. Going from Arendelle to faraway Australia where the Easter Bunny resides was a simple feat.

Today, she will visit her old nemesis.

Esther Bunnymund was not to be trifled with. She wields her boomerangs with a lethality that stunned and excited Jacqueline, who was always willing to pay the irate Guardian an unwelcomed visit.

But today Jacqueline comes for advice.

“What do you want?” Esther asks grumpily, seeing the little snow spirit.

“I want to ask you a question.” Jacqueline perches on a moss-covered mound.

“Then be quick about it. I’m busy enough without you popping in like this.”

Jacqueline smirks, not letting her nervousness show. “Have you ever taken a lover, Esther?”

The Guardian twitches so violently she nearly fell into a river of paint. “A…A lover?! Jacqueline, you must be mad—”

“Have you?” Her voice was calm, not mocking and playful.

Esther stares. “This better not be another one of your tricks,” she warned. “What’s all this about, anyway? Why not ask Nicola?”

“I was in the area.” The winter spirit twirls her staff. “I met a mortal,” she says tentatively. “A human king in Scandinavia.”

“What is so special about this king?”

Snow blossoms from Jacqueline’s staff and falls through the air. “He and I share similar powers. He has mastery over ice and snow and can conjure a blizzard simply through the fluctuation of his emotions. I have never met a mortal who can do this.”

Esther narrows her eyes. “Interesting. A mortal shouldn’t have these powers.”

“Precisely. I met him, but he did not know where his powers came from. I went to Nicola, but she does not know. However, we think the Man in the Moon has had a hand in this.”

“What happened then? Have you spoken to Man in the Moon?”

“No. He did not speak to me. So I went back to the kingdom and I stayed and spoke with him for seven nights.”

“Has anything happened between the two of you?”

“No.”

“Then what is all this about a lover? Have you—”

“No. At least, I do not know if I should.” Jacqueline twirls her staff through her fingers.

Esther scoffs. “What’s with this indecision? It’s not like you.”

But the silence softens her. Green eyes gaze with sympathy.

“Do you love him?”

“I do not know.”

“Do you want him?”

Here, the first sign of unease shows. “Perhaps.”

“You do.”

“I do not know if I should.”

“The risk is yours to take. If you feel you can handle it, if you feel you can survive with the consequences afterwards, do what you wish…. But remember, there is no hope of any lasting relationship between an immortal and a human.”

“I know.”

Esther sighs. “And there you have your answer.” She turns her back on the snow spirit. “Now go and do what you will. Your heart has never stopped you before; why should it do so now?” She peers back at the girl. “However, be careful.”

Jacqueline pauses. “Thank you.”

Then she is gone with a rush of cold wind and the scent of winter air.


End file.
